


let's go all the way tonight

by returnsandreturns



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, High School, Loss of Virginity, Plans, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 22:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2245071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mindy has a lot of plans for her junior year, most of them involving finalizing her list of colleges and finally saving up enough money to upgrade to the newest iPhone, but none of these plans are more important than The Plan.</p><p>Mindy Lahiri’s Five Point Plan to Totally Lose Her V-Card.<br/> <br/>It’s foolproof. </p><p>She’s got a PowerPoint and everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's go all the way tonight

 “I’ve heard this can make your hair fall out,” Betsy says, wrinkling her nose while she reads the back of the hair bleach box for the fifth time. The whole room smells like bleach, and Mindy’s already queasy. She clearly should have just bitten the bullet and invited Morgan to do her hair. He’s suspiciously good at it, and Betsy just keeps staring at the bleach that’s already in Mindy’s hair like it’s actively pulling her down into hell.  

“ _God_ ,” she says. “It’s just one chunk of hair. It’s not like I’m turning into Lady Gaga.”

Betsy runs a hand over her own hair, cut in perfectly even blunt bangs. 

“Do you think being in an enclosed room with this can damage my hair?” she asks. 

“I don’t know, Betsy, probably,” Mindy says. “Probably your hair is ruined forever.” 

They sit in silence for a nice long minute, Mindy moving to stand by the window so her head will stop swimming.

“I just don’t understand the _blue_ ,” Betsy says, despairingly, like she’s been holding it in for hours instead of the twenty five minutes she’s been sitting in the bathroom of Mindy’s basement. They’re dying her hair down here because the smell won’t permeate throughout the rest of her house and immediately alert her mother to her tomfoolery. That’s probably what her mother would call dying a chunk of her perfect thick Indian hair that white women pay lots of money to have inserted into their heads a violent royal blue, immediately prior to grounding her forever. 

She’ll face that when it comes, though.   

“Blue hair is cool,” she replies. “It’s. . .European.” 

“European,” Betsy repeats, slowly. “Like from Europe.” 

“That is the definition of European, yes, Betsy. Good job.” 

“Like how _Jeremy_  is from Europe,” Betsy continues. 

Mindy whirls around to look at her, regretting it immediately when the bleach covered hair smacks her across the face. She could have absolutely just gone blind and then she would have to sue Betsy and take all of her parents’ money to pay for eye surgery. Maybe they could give her blue eyes, though. It would match her new hair. 

“Jeremy?” she blurts out, to a wide-eyed Betsy. “Who mentioned Jeremy? This has nothing to do with Jeremy. Who even is this Jeremy?” 

Okay, so, _Jeremy_. Jeremy is tall and has a nice smile and already gets a five o’clock shadow even though they’re only sixteen, and he just happens to be from England, which means he has an accent that makes him about 7500% hotter than he actually is. This is a real statistic; Mindy did a study to prove it because she’s not only incredibly pretty but also a genius. For all any of them know, Jeremy’s a complete uggo, but as long as he keeps talking like Hugh Grant, nobody will ever find out. 

Betsy offers, helpfully, “You know, Jeremy, the new boy who you’ve been staring very intensely at during lunch since he started going to our school.” 

“I don’t know why we’re talking about Jeremy,” Mindy says, “who, by the way, is _allegedly_ from England, I certainly haven’t seen his birth certificate. We have way more pressing matters at hand, like washing this bleach out.” 

She immediately ducks her head into the sink and turns it on high so she can’t hear whatever Betsy says next. She can’t believe that her whole plan was discovered in thirty seconds by the most innocent person in the tri-county area, Miss Teen Jesus. Because, yes, it’s possible that her sudden new hair decision has something to do with the introduction of a new male figure in their life. It’s possible that this male figure is Jeremy. More importantly, though, it definitely has everything to do with The Plan.

Mindy has a lot of plans for her junior year, most of them involving finalizing her list of colleges and finally saving up enough money to upgrade to the newest iPhone, but none of these plans are more important than The Plan.

Mindy Lahiri’s Five Point Plan to Totally Lose Her V-Card. 

It’s foolproof. 

She’s got a PowerPoint and everything. 

*

“Oh, it’s nice,” Betsy says. “It’s like blue Kool Aid.” 

Mindy smiles at her herself in the mirror, tossing her hair behind her head. The blue stands out a lot against her black hair, one long strip of it that frames her face. She looks so cool. She looks, like. . .well, she doesn’t have time to make an equation to figure it out, but probably like 400% cooler than she previously looked. 

“Well, Bets,” she says, propping her hands on her hips. “It’s time to go show off the new Mindy before my parents get home and make me chop all my hair off and sell it to charity.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“I’m going where any self-respecting teenage girl would go for her last few hours of freedom,” Mindy says. Betsy stares at her blankly, and Mindy rolls her eyes and heads towards the door, saying, “We’re going to the mall, Betsy.”

Mindy doesn’t have a car because her parents believe in making her work for her possessions and Mindy believes in whatever the opposite of that is. Betsy, on the other hand, inherited a piece of crap Honda from her grandmother, and it is the biggest waste in the whole world. How could the universe see fit to give Betsy a car and not her? 

She props her feet on the dashboard as they pull out of her driveway, right next to the tiny hula girl that Mindy bought her as an apology for literally never paying for gas. She sways lazily with her ukulele as they drive through the suburb and Mindy texts Danny on her janky iPhone 3G to tell him that everything is changing and if he has any sense, he will meet them at Taco Bell in the food court. 

He texts back: _taco bell will kill you_  because Danny is 45 years old. He actually prefers to talk on the phone instead of text, which is completely ridiculous.

 _COME WATCH ME EAT A CHALUPA_ , she texts back. About five minutes go by before Danny texts back: _peter is coming, too_ , to which Mindy replies: _ugh peter_ because ugh, Peter. She knows that Peter and Danny are weird friends in a way that makes no sense because Danny is practically geriatric and Peter is a frat boy in the making, but she still isn’t used to him and his recreational dickishness. 

Danny literally just texts back: _eh_ , which is accurate. 

At the mall, Mindy orders two chalupas and as much chips and cheese as they will give her for the change she can fish out of her purse. Betsy picks from them while they wait for the guys to show up. 

Mindy is saying, “I don’t know why they don’t have a _Diet_  Baha Blast,” while drinking a 44 ounce Baha Blast when she spots Danny and Peter walking past the Aeropostale. Danny is ranting about something, as he does, and Peter is checking out a girl and clearly not listening, as he does. They both stop in their tracks when they see Mindy, which means The Plan is in action. Step One: Get More Attention. 

“Min- _day_ ,” Peter says. “Looking scandalous.” 

Mindy smiles at him benevolently, flipping her hair again.

“What did you do to yourself?” Danny asks. He’s got a constipated look on his face, but Mindy ignores it, doing Vanna White hands around her head. 

“I got hotter,” she says. “Though who knew that was even possible.” 

“It’s like Katy Perry lite,” Peter says. He steals one of Mindy’s chalupas, but she’s too distracted by the fact that Danny is still scowling at her head to do anything about it. Danny looks like her hair has personally insulted his mother and he’s going to go all mobster on it.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” she asks. 

He scowls harder, says, “What the hell is wrong with _you_? What did your mother say about this?” 

“Nothing,” she replies. “Because she hasn’t seen it.” 

“Why blue?”

“Blue is cool,” Mindy says. 

“It’s European!” Betsy adds.

“European?” Danny asks. “Why would you want to look European?” 

“Oh,” Peter says, insightful, through a mouthful of chalupa. “Jeremy.” 

Mindy gapes at him. Danny looks horrified. 

“You messed up your hair for _Jeremy_?” he asks. 

She should have added a stealth element to The Plan, because she didn’t intend on discussing her plan to drop her virginity before senior year with Danny, just like she didn’t plan on discussing it with her grandmother or the old lady who works at the mini-mart around the corner from her house. Because it would be awkward. 

“I didn’t mess up my hair, Danny,” she says, glaring at him. “I changed it, and I did it for myself, because I’m an independent young woman with a lot going on for me, so. . .so, there.” 

She hops to her feet and starts to storm out of the food court, then turns around on one foot to grab her drink and remaining chalupa before leaving again. Behind her, Danny goes, “Ah, Mindy, come on,” and gets to his feet to follow. She stops near the front doors and Danny grabs her arm, gently. 

“Look, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he says. 

“What, by telling me my hair was hideous?” she asks. “My hair is an extension of me, Danny. My hair is an expression of my soul. Are you calling my soul hideous?” 

“Of course not,” he says, seriously. “I just. . .look, your hair was perfect before. You didn’t need to change it.”

Mindy stares at him for a few seconds before she smiles. 

“You thought my hair was perfect?” she asks. 

“I,” Danny says, then rolls his eyes elaborately, “Yeah, okay, I did. You had nice hair. You still do. The blue’s. . .it’s okay.” 

“Wow, Danny Castellano thinks I’m okay,” Mindy says. “Do you want to put another straw into my Baha Blast so we can split it and play footsy under the table?” 

“Alright, let’s just go back inside,” he says, knocking their shoulders together. “And you have to stop drinking that stuff, it’s gonna kill your liver.” 

She says, “Uh huh,” while he tirades against the soda industry and throws an arm around his waist while they walk, leaning her head against his shoulder. She’s just glad he apparently has the tact not to bring up Jeremy again.


End file.
